


Distraction

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-24
Updated: 2006-06-26
Packaged: 2018-12-27 11:31:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12080202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian needs a distraction. So does Justin. Eventually, they realize, that love is the strongest distraction of them all.





	1. I Haven't Heard A Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: I do not know anything about drug addiction/halfway houses, so I'm doing my best painting a realistic view. Any lyrics/quotes are used from the Angels and Airwaves song, "Distraction." The first person is in Justin's voice, intersecting with the third-person Brian, for the first chapter, anyway.  


* * *

'This is it.' I boarded the aircraft and watched, waited for someone to say goodbye. I didn't turn around, because I knew no one was there to miss me. Watch me leave. I sat in my seat and held my breath as we began our ascent, feeling weightless and wondering if this is what it was like to die...

He loved the distinct patterns raindrops made, the millions, billions of drops on the car window were tiny planets, forming this world on the window of a car, a world that would be washed away in mere minutes, but it didn't matter to him. It was there, now, and he traced their outlines with his finger and felt the cool sharpness of the window, not daring to roll down the window and erase this vast creation.

"Brian. We're almost there."

His mom, well, the woman who adopted him, slowed down at a red light and Brian, nineteen and aimless, waited. She was taking him to a place where he would learn to purge his wicked ways, heal his veins and make sure that he would never, ever again pick up a needle and kill himself. He wasn't a drug abuser. It was more of a distraction, a way to get by. Something to forget that he lived nowhere, had no one. Coming out in high school was the worst idea of his life, and now, his repayment plan. A fucking halfway house.

She kissed him goodbye and drove off, leaving this tall, awkward, brown-haired boy standing in front of a house filled with kids like him. He was barely twenty and already his life was over.

As we touched down in Sacramento, I wondered if this was the right decision. Leaving a fulfilling directors position with a New York-based hospital and coming here, to a state I had never known, to a place that was unfamiliar and hot. All the time. I decided not to linger on that, it would only be worse. I wasn't here for me. I was here for them.

"Brian Kinney."

The woman who had asked his name gave him a warm smile. She was pretty enough, he thought, with her short black hair and her wide brown eyes. She said her name was Marly, and she was the "go-to" woman, the woman in charge. As Brian walked through the living room to the stairs, noticing the kids his age reading, playing guitar, talking, shouting, it was like this huge kind of recreation center, with meetings and sessions, of course, to help kick the habit. It was nice enough, with huge open spaces letting in sunlight and air. The rooms were big enough, clean enough, and although he had to share, this was better than living in some fucking project with a depressed faux-mom. Marly was asking him questions but he vaguely heard them, his eyes lingering over the boys and girls whom he would be getting to know. Soon they arrived at his door. His name was on the door, along with someone, his roommate's, Sean. He opened the door and felt scared, for the first time since he was here. This was really happening. He wasn't sure if this was what he needed. Maybe it would be better just to live on the street again. At least he had a friend or two out there. Here, he was all alone.

"Now Brian, this is your room as well as Sean's, so I urge you to decorate it as you would like. You both are similar in age, so that shouldn't be a problem."

"Where is he?" Brian asked. He was curious.

"He is with his counseling group right now. He should be back be five. Dinner is at seven. Your schedule is here", and at that she handed him a folder with stapled packets of information-" as well as times of meals, and your personalized treatment groups. We do have school sessions. so for you we would be bringing in a tutor to help you with the subjects a person your age would be learning in college. And Brian. Its okay. I know how you feel."

He wanted to resent this woman, this place, but he couldn't. So when she opened her arms he went to her, finally releasing the tears that had been inside for so long.


	2. Their Weapon of Choice

  
Author's notes: I do not know anything about drug addiction/halfway houses, so I'm doing my best painting a realistic view. Any lyrics/quotes/chapter titles are used from the Angels and Airwaves song, "Distraction."   


* * *

'This is not so bad...' Brian wanted to tell Sean, as they both sat on their respective beds, having popped Brian's _My Bloody Valentine_ into Sean's cd player, both sharing the haunting bass lines of a band Brian found comforting, in some strange way. They had met, introduced, shared minor details, and immediately Brian felt comfortable with him. He was like this older, much more fucked-up brother, being 22 and way more into drugs than he was. At least they liked the same music.

''So Brian. You got a girlfriend?" Sean opened his eyes and looked across the room to Brian, who, laying on his stomach with his feet in the air, looked like he was at home.

He didn't know what to say. Last year, when he lived with Jesse, things were...amazing. They would get high, fuck all day. Do more shit at night. Rinse, repeat. Brian had thought it was love, but it was more like a drug dream...he loved Jesse, but it was when they were both stone-cold sober and laying in bed at off-hours of the day, the drugs having worn off, their dicks completely spent, that Brian realized love was this illusory dream, this nonexistent escape he liked to think of sometimes at night, when Jesse was melting into him, and he connected their hands together and looked into his eyes and believed, even if it was for a moment, that this was real. Later on, when Jesse kicked him out and he was on the streets again, he went home, found his mother, and cried for years.

"Actually, I like guys." He said it casually, so as not to offend this often cute individual he was rooming with. Sean's eyebrows increased ever so slightly, a detail only guys like Brian would notice, but it was there.

"Ah. That's cool, man. That's cool." And it was silence for the rest of the night.

 

Justin walked up the little cement pathway leading to the door of the house he would call a home for the next few months, at least. The flight was jittery, and his nerves were shot as he hailed a cab and paid the twenty bucks that led him here. His hair was a mass of sweat and he feared he looked a little unkempt, as if he were here to check in himself. He knocked once, twice. Decided that this was a huge mistake...

"Mr. Taylor! We're expecting you! Welcome!"

Marly was all excitement as she hugged Justin tightly, his frail bones in his pale blue dress-down shirt being squeezed. She reminded him of a younger version of his own mother, before she was killed by a drunken driver. That was why this was so important to him. He needed kids to be aware that life had consquences, that they were responsible to other human beings. The man who hit his mom was sixteen, had barely gotten his permit. Justin remembered hearing the news and then not, simply hearing snowy static in his eardrums as his dad, sisters, aunts and uncles tried to talk to him.

Justin smiled at her. "Hi. I'm sorry I'm a little late, couldn't get a cab..."

Marly called her a boy to help her take Mr. Taylor's suitcases. "Don't be silly. You're just in time for dinner."

She left, told him to follow the 14 year old who led him down and up stairs, finally to his room. It was big enough, with a good sense of light in the morning and at night. There was already an easel set up, along with the various other supplies he would need. Justin smiled, feeling a little less scared here. It was just a house.

 

There was a frenzy of excitement as dinner was being served, with kids helping each other out. Justin noticed that most of them didn't look like addicts anymore, they simply looked like kids. He had to remember that these kids were 18,19, but they looked younger. They had lost out on a childhood because of the drugs and now, finally they would be able to live normal lives. Justin sat next to an empty chair, while the rest of the table was filled.

"Sean? Where's Brian?" Marly asked, a quizzical look on his face.

Sean, having been previously chatting it up with a girl on his left, looked to Marly.

"I have no idea. He wasn't in the room when I came down."

Justin smiled a little as Marly told him to make sure everything was okay down here before she rushed off to find him. He was the only counselor, besides Marly, who would actually be living here. The rest had their own homes, lives, partners, and came into work just like everyone else in the morning. He looked again to the empty chair and suddenly saw a boy sitting there. He had huge brown eyes, a mess of auburn hair, and the most beautiful lips he had ever seen. Justin stared at him until he realized that the boy was speaking.

"I said, why are you staring at me?" Brian looked back at Justin carefully, automatically entranced by this gorgeous man sitting next to him.

'Oh shit.' "I'm sorry, I just, I guess you weren't sitting here before, and now you are."

This fucking twenty year old was making him stammer. Jesus Christ.

Brian smiled, as if he already knew him, that this whole situation was alright.

"Hey. Its fine." Justin realized that if this kid, with all the shit he's been through, had more composure than himself, he was royally fucked.

As Marly came back down, with a few choice words for Brian, Justin realized that Brian's foot was softly touching his under the table.


	3. The Fires, They Grew

  
Author's notes: I do not know anything about drug addiction/halfway houses, so I'm doing my best painting a realistic view. Any lyrics/quotes are used from the Angels and Airwaves song, "Distraction."   


* * *

Was it me or was he rubbing againt me?

I lay in bed, the air blowing through the curtains as I replayed the scene in my mind. We were talking, I guess, about what I do here, how I'm an art therapist, how I help kids express their emotions through art when suddenly his shoe was on top of mine, as if they were a pair of legs, his and mine. Should I give a shit? Its not like I ended, or had, anything special on the East coast. Honestly, my work pretty much took over my life. I was married to my art, and I was happy, except that sexually or otherwise...not so much. 

The next morning I showered, dressed, and walked down the hall to the main area, to see Marly and asked her if she had any specific schedule. I passed by rooms on my left and right, when I came to a door marked "Brian and Sean." I guessed it was his room. I started to wonder if he was really into hardcore drugs, the shit that messed you up so bad that you needed some really heavy therapy. He was a great conversationalist, a little on the brash side, but I expect that. He was nice, and polite, and I found myself wanting to be around him, if that sounds so bad. He's a fucking patient of mine, but in a way, he's the one helping me.

 

Around ten, Sean began clanging around, searching for a decent pair of jeans to put on, a shirt, the like. Brian groaned, wanting to be anywhere but here. He then remembered that they had a spare room downstairs, with musical instruments...Hurriedly he flew down, in his pajamas and grabbed a guitar with a few strings missing. Jesse had taught him how to play some Dylan songs when they were together, but when Brian decided to stop using, Jesse kicked him and his guitar dreams out the window. That was when Brian began writing. They weren't very good, he thought, but they were something to take his mind off the stuff. He found a spare hallway on the fourth floor and sat, sheets of paper in his hand, playing the songs he escaped to.

 

'This isn't easy,' Justin mused as he locked the art room. It was nearing ten, he had missed dinner, and the kids obviously still needed more than one distraction to stop thinking about using again. He only wondered once where Brian was, but then again, he wasn't scheduled until tomorrow morning. Justin decided he needed some food. He rented a car at the airport, for now, until he got his feet on the ground. He was just about to head out when...

"Justin? Hey." Brian sauntered over to him, his hips in a low cut pair of jeans, a soft black long-sleeved tee on his chest. Justin tried not to sexualize him, but goddamn was he beautiful...

"Hey, Brian. Shouldn't you be in bed?" Brian chuckled.

"Thanks, Dad, I'll go do that." He rolled his eyes and smiled. Justin liked how easygoing he was, certainly not like the other kids here.

"Well, you know, superior instinct, I guess." Justin smiled nervously, staring at his feet all of a sudden, feeling very old, even if he was only twenty-four, with this nineteen year old.

"Where you going?" Brian came a little bit closer, his hands firmly clapsed together at his back.

"Um, I missed dinner, so I was gonna go catch a bite somewhere, even if I have no idea where the hell anything is around here."

Seeing an opportunity, he attacked.

"Dude, I've lived here my entire life, practically half of it on these here streets. I know every place where they give you water and let you piss for free."

Justin grinned. He definitely didn't get tired of Brian's take-me-as-I-am attitude. It was refreshing.

"Are you sure you can even leave the house?" Justin was sure that in the rules Marly had left for him on his dresser that occupants were not allowed to leave, even if said occupant had the nicest chest he had ever seen.

Brian looked up the stairs. "Them? Fuck them. I'm fine, I haven't been on dope in a year. Swear to fucking Christ."

Justin frowned, began biting at a few hangnails. He didn't know whether to trust him or not.

"I don't know, Brian..." He hesitated, shifted to one foot, and looked in his eyes. Brian stepped closer. He rolled up one of his sleeves and showed him his veins, all but closed. There were marks around them, heavy, heavy lines, but they looked like he hadn't injected in quite some time.

"You believe me now? I wouldn't lie to you." He smiled a soft smile. 

Justin removed his hands from his mouth and his doubt from his eyes. "Okay. But only for thirty minutes. And only to a McDonald's."

"Fuck, you are amazing!" Brian laughed and rolled his sleeve down, opening the door for Justin and closing it after himself, as they slipped out into the night, both breathing fresh California air and feeling a bond forming between them.


End file.
